Lessons to be Learnt
by LizzieLovesErik
Summary: Christine Daaé was born to sing, but always too afraid to persue her dreams. However, her mysterious, masked tutor is confident that he can change that. But is she really the only one with lessons to be learnt? Can Christine's boundless enthusiasm melt the icy contours of Erik's heart? Modern/AU
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! Firstly, I'd like to apologize profusely for my unforgivably lengthy absence from this website; my excuse simply being the whirlwind of a year I've had. The combination of turning 16 and the sheer stress of GCSE's led me to having no time to indulge in what I love best- writing fanfiction. At the moment, I am still practically as busy- starting sixth form and my A levels (all of which I LOVE), and performing the title song "The Phantom of the Opera" with no less than the Head boy in the Christmas school show! So I have finally, partially achieved my dream of being Christine! YAY! :3 Anywho, it is obvious that my life is still full to the brim, so I will not be updating as regularly as I would like to... and despite my promise that I have not COMPLETELY abandoned my aptly named story 'Wishing you were somehow here again", I have been struck with a new idea which I cannot seem to discard! So here is the first chapter... a taster of what is to come. :-) Whether or not I choose to continue it will be completely down to you; so, if you like it, please do not hesitate to leave me a review! Thankyou again, and I hope you enjoy! :D**

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"You must tell me exactly how it goes!"

"Yes, Madame."

"And do try your best to _enjoy _yourself, dear."

"Yes, Madame."

"…and whatever you do, _don't mention the mask!"_

_"Yes, _Madame…" I sighed, with the hint of an eye roll. "You've waffled on about that bleeding mask time and time again; 'don't mention it, Christine'…'don't touch it, Christine'… 'don't even dare _look _at it, Christine! Heaven forbid, just one single glance at that fateful piece of fabric will incinerate your very eyes, and-"

"You've always had a very overactive imagination, Christine," Madame Giry tutted.

How funny it is that despite her practically being the mother I never had, I still couldn't quite break the tradition of calling her 'Madame'. It appears that old habits never die hard, and I suppose that I sub-consciously felt as if I owed her such a respect, after all she had done for me.

"You flatter me, Madame, you really do," I teased, my smile soon blossoming into an uncontrollable grin.

"Well, I'm sure such compliments will continue after you rediscover your vocal talent-"

"Vocal talent? _What _vocal talent?"

"-and soon enough, become the most renowned opera star in all of Paris."

"You have got to be joking…"

"Honestly Christine!" Madame Giry's delicate features were screwed up into a scowl, which almost evoked a fit of giggles from me.

…Almost. An unladylike snort escaped, but the rest of my laughter was held captive. Apparently though, this still warranted a gentle shove from my 'doting' motherly figure.

"Stop putting yourself down all the time! It's all very well being modest, and not having an obsession for yourself like a _certain _Spanish woman we are acquainted with-"

"Carlotta…" I winced.

"-yet this is bordering on ridiculous. You _do _have natural vocal talent… don't laugh at me, Christine, I hear you belting arias round the house all the time!"

I shot her a look which was a mixture of staged outrage and genuine sheepishness.

"My point is, you _do _possess a great gift, but you simply have not pursued it yet! And Mr. Destler," Madame Giry finished with a knowing smile, "is the one man who will help you to do so. He is no less than a genius, and now, you are going to finally meet him."

Our conversation had aptly carried us through the maze of corridors, and directly in front of what must have been _the _door. _The door of doom_.

I shivered.

"You know, I appreciate what you're saying- really, I do… but, do you think it's necessary for me to take these lessons?"

"Yes."

"What if I've decided that I'm really, _really _not cut out for singing? What if… I want to be a… um… a _doctor _instead? Yes, a doctor! What then?" I gabbled desperately, slowly edging further and further away from the looming, daunting door.

"Christine, my dear child, you faint at the sight of blood."

"Damn it!" I cradled my face in my hands. "What if I'm… what if I'm scared?"

"Irrelevant."

I slowly peeked through my fingers.

"…is Mr. Destler scary?"

"That depends on what you mean, by definition, of the adjective '_scary',_" a deep voice boomed from the other side of the door, the syllables practically resounding round the room.

I emitted a high-pitched squeal and jumped practically two feet in the air.

Madame Giry chuckled, shaking her head, as I attempted to collect myself.

"Who _was _that?!" I mouthed, my face probably resembling that of a frightened meerkat.

The door swung promptly open, making me jump again, thus spinning round haphazardly to face a pair of golden eyes. The mere sight of them transfixed me; I was unable to even acknowledge the rest of his appearance. All I saw were two pools of starlight stolen straight from the sky. And they were beautiful. So strange, yet so very beautiful…

"Mademoiselle, I believe we have not been formally introduced."

Oh, it was that voice again! That _voice- _as soft as silk, as rich as chocolate and as sweet as pure honey… Mmm. What a desirable combination.

Distracted, I gazed up at him through hazy eyes as his _heavenly _voice graced my ears yet again.

"My name is Erik Destler, and from this day onward, I shall be your music tutor."


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing that struck me about him was how impossibly _tall _he was, towering above my modest 5 ft 4 inches. And it wasn't simply his height which caught my attention; it was the breadth of his shoulders, the lithe length of his legs, the lean shape of his torso... everything about him was _majestic._ As my eyes travelled upward past his black trousers and black suit-jacket, they suddenly reached the stark contrast of a white… _mask._

The mask which I had vowed not to even acknowledge.

The mask which I found myself unable to ignore.

_Why must he wear a mask? _

_Are masks a… custom, wherever he comes from? _

_What is he hiding?_

So many questions raced through my mind, as I studied this ashen accessory. It appeared to be some sort of fabric, covering a direct half of his face, from hairline, to upper lip. The consequential realization that his entire mouth was on show brought a strange sensation over me; I found myself greedily devouring the sight of those full, unhidden lips. This led to me eagerly scrutinizing everything else I could see: pale, angular features, high cheekbones, a prominent jaw… all aspects of his face were hard, robust and masculine. And yet, I could not stop myself from being drawn to the sheer _softness_ of his eyes… although, I was almost certain that there was a shade of sadness amidst their golden hue.

"Are you quite finished?" The voice snapped me back to my senses with sharp clarity.

Oh lord, how many times had this man made me jump already?! If our lessons continued, a nervous breakdown would definitely be on the cards.

"Has your avid inspection of my appearance proved sufficient?" he asked calmly, all words sounding like poetry spun from his lips, even though they were practically dripping with sarcasm.

"…sufficient? Um… no! I mean, yes! I mean…" I trailed off pathetically, unsure of what exactly he was asking.

"Very well," he scowled. I winced in response. He turned to Madame Giry, bowing flamboyantly. Or, maybe it was just the fact that he bowed at all which was flamboyant in my eyes. "Thank you for your assistance, Madame, but I believe that will be all for now."

She graciously took the hint, and bobbed a modest curtsey. I felt extremely left out of this charade, so took to bouncing lightly on my toes instead.

"In that case, I have my ballet to attend to…"

I shot her a look which clearly read,_ 'please don't leave me alone with this madman!'_… but alas, she simply smiled, turned on her heel and began journeying down the corridor. My new tutor quirked his eyebrow at me disdainfully, as I realized that I was still bouncing, albeit even more vigorously.

_Well done, Christine. Yet another stranger who probably thinks you're insane._

I stopped mid-bounce and grinned sheepishly. Mr. Destler remained stone-faced.

"Come. There is much work to be done."

I watched in awe as he stalked through the door, beckoning me with a lazy flick of his long, elegant fingers. I trotted after him, trying not to get distracted by the lithe grace of his movements. This became easier, however, when I fully entered the room. It was _beautiful._ Not in an obvious, superficial sense, but more so because it was filled with things I _love._ The carpet was faded and worn, yet was still a luxurious shade of scarlet. Paintings of colour and splendour were proudly displayed on every wall- divine works of art which I'd never seen before. A collection of glass animals adorned the fire place, which was lit- crackling gently as the flames licked and morphed and twisted. A large, fully stacked bookshelf stood at the side of the room, yet there were books _everywhere:_ books of science and mathematics, history and politics, language and literature, art and design, and… ah, of course! _Music._ In fact, it appeared that music was the sole focus of the entire room; as I surveyed my surroundings, I took note of the sea of instruments, all lovingly placed at the centre of the room. My eyes widened as I realized that this man, this _musician_ must play: piano, violin, viola, cello, flute, clarinet, oboe, trombone, trumpet, saxophone, guitar, mandolin, as well as an assortment of drums which were _certainly _not of Parisian culture! He noticed my shocked expression and unsuccessful attempt to count the number of instruments on my fingers- his response simply being a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

"I enjoy developing my musical skills in various areas…"

"I'll say!" I chuckled in disbelief. I gazed up at him, my mouth curving upwards in awe. He pointedly ignored me, and began busying himself by rearranging the papers littered on the grand piano. Being naturally inquisitive, I couldn't stop myself from sneaking a look…

"You compose?" I asked excitedly, picking up one of the sheets of score.

My casual question inspired a violent reaction from my tutor; he snatched the piece of paper away from me, before cradling it to his chest.

"Yes... and no."

My brow furrowed in confusion. "How can you compose… and _not _compose at the same time?"

"Why so many questions?" he grumbled, dumping the now systematically ordered pile of papers onto his desk.

"Sorry… I'm just curious, it's in my nature!" I beamed.

"Wonderful." he sighed. "Anyway, I do believe that it is time for your lesson to-"

"Christine Daaé, by the way," I interrupted, holding out my hand earnestly. "My name, that is…"

"I am very much aware of your name, Miss. Daaé-"

"Good! So, Erik- can I call you Erik? I'd just like to say that-"

"No."

I cocked my head to one side, confused. "…Pardon?"

"No, you may _not _call me Erik. I would much rather for you to refer to me as _'Mr. Destler',_ as I will refer to you as _'Miss. Daaé'." _He paused, his smouldering eyes sending shivers down my spine. "I believe it is more appropriate, given our strictly professional relationship."

I gulped. "Um… of course, if that is truly what you would prefer?"

"Very much so." His voice was low and predatory; a velvet caress with a sharp, lethal edge. "I am not your _friend, _Miss. Daaé. I am simply your tutor, as you are my pupil."

Despite generally claiming that _'I like everyone!'_, I already felt a surge of dislike towards this man. Why was he being so… so _vile _towards me? I hadn't done anything wrong! The fact that I felt this way, yet still could not take my eyes off him unnerved me greatly- to the extent where I was ready to walk out of the door and never return. But then, he spoke again.

"However, I intend to make you the most sensational opera singer the world has ever known. Angels will weep when you sing- begging you to sprout wings and join them, as your voice will be far too Heavenly to be witnessed upon Earth."

Any resentment I previously felt towards him had melted away in an instant… I was simply left with a hollow numbness within me - unsure of what to think or what to say. To claim that I was moved by his words was a blasphemous understatement.

"So, let us begin." The soft, wistful look his eyes held just moments before suddenly hardened, as he beckoned me towards the piano.

I blindly obeyed him, without fully knowing why.

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**Well, your lovely reviews have clearly inspired me to write more_ already..._ so there you have it! The next chappy! :D I hope you enjoyed this one as much as the first... especially seeing as this is where our story _really _begins! And I will not say ANYYYYYMORE- other than a stereotypically desperate plea for feedback! It truly is what spurs me onward... so if you share your thoughts, a new chapter wil hopefully be up soon! :-) Thank you all so much for reading, it really means the world. :D **


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